


Learning to Love Again

by niick



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bisexual Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Canon Asexual Character, Character Study, M/M, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives) Lives, helping each other love, i just have lots of feelings about sad tim okay, m/m/m relationship, martin's mom was not a good person, neither was jon's grandma, poetic but only a little, pondering on love, they all have at least a little ptsd and that's OKAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niick/pseuds/niick
Summary: Tim learns to open up, Martin learns to accept himself, and Jon learns to love a little.Just your standard philosophical musings on what love means to an individual that is poorly disguised as a jonmartim fic
Relationships: Danny Stoker & Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker, Past Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Georgie Barker, Past Sasha James/Tim Stoker - Relationship
Comments: 23
Kudos: 91





	Learning to Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> hi so this one went HARD and I did not expect the writing to come out like it did. for all intents and purposes I sat down to write some j/m/t in which Tim had to learn to love slower and respect Jon's boundaries and Jon had to open up more to Martin and Tim but then it got away from me and now it's kinda... a philosophical adventure. oops
> 
> TWs for this one: Tim's suicidal ideology before the unknowing, Martin's self worth issues, minor character death, mention of bad parenting (Martin's mom and Jon's grandma), brief hospital setting

* * *

Jon was very much a stranger to love.

It wasn’t present in his childhood, due to mainly the negligence of his grandmother. He grew up distant from others and out of touch with his feelings, that cold detachment lasting him through primary and secondary school and all the way to uni. He never really understood his peers, the way they’d smile and laugh together over things that seemed so trivial. His grandmother always told him to focus on his studies and nothing else, so he decided that love was just a distraction. He let it go.

Georgie had been the first, really, that he had ever opened up to, the first person to understand him; the first person to make him believe that he deserved love; the first person to accept his boundaries and enforce their own. She was the first person that he truly allowed himself to grow attached to, and he found that he enjoyed that warm feeling deep in his chest. He had talked to her about his grandmother and she had been aghast, she had told him that the right kind of love would help you do anything.

He didn’t believe her at the time, but why would he? Love seemed so  _ touchy _ , and Jon had no interest in that whatsoever, so how would it help him succeed? He continued to dismiss love as something trivial, something for people dumber than him with more time on their hands.

Love with Georgie had been nice, while it lasted. Jon hadn’t realized he had been feeling love until it hit him all at once, until she kissed him and it felt like a piece of the puzzle clicked into place. But, as Jon was well aware, nothing good lasted. Love was a nice vacation but he had a career to pursue, so, in the end, they broke it off. It wasn’t a bumpy ending, just an all-too-familiar drifting once they graduated - Jon went off to his job at the Institute, Georgie went on to do  _ What The Ghost _ , and things moved on.

By the time Jon started working as the Head Archivist, he decided that love wasn’t for him. He was far too busy after all - the archives were a mess and his assistants were a hindrance. Martin was clumsy and a bother, always interrupting Jon’s work with a mug of tea. Tim was inappropriate at the best of times, and downright vulgar at the worst, and Sasha, well… Sasha was actually quite competent, but that was beside the point. It would just be a distraction from his work, he thought, and he forgot that warm feeling altogether.

After the Prentiss incident, something shifted.

Jon had come to Martin’s aid of his own accord and he was still reeling from it, reeling from the relief on the man’s face and reeling from the overwhelming desire to kiss the fear away. He was still reeling with every mug of tea, every tentative smile, every hesitation in his office door. A feeling bloomed in his chest that he recognized from his time with Georgie and that he did his very best job of shutting down, closing himself off even more than before.

Jon, loathe as he was to admit it, was afraid of love. He was afraid of the vulnerability it led to, he was afraid of being laughed at, and he was afraid of his boundaries being crossed. Besides, the Unknowing was coming, and he couldn’t spare any time being distracted by something as trivial as  _ love _ .

The Unknowing changed things again, in a big way. It turned Jon’s world completely upside-down. The flames and fire and chaos took his heart by storm, and the sky came crashing down around him. It put him in a coma, of course, but aside from that…

He couldn’t get it out of his head the grin Tim had given him as the bomb detonated, the tender look in his eyes from the next hospital bed over. Even through the coma and the burns on them both and the monstrosity Jon was becoming, Tim would still give him that familiar smirk, tell a joke, wink. Jon’s heart had felt oh so very tight, warm to the point of bursting, but he chalked it up to the pain meds and put it behind him.

He still remembered the look on Martin’s face when they both got out of the hospital: the way the man’s eyes had lit up, the way he had wiped tears and snot from his freckled face and swept the two of them up in a breathtakingly careful hug. If he recalled the memory for long enough Jon could still feel the warmth of Martin’s arms around him, the sound of Tim’s laughter ringing out in the silent hospital waiting room.

After that Jon found himself smiling more often. He would smile at Martin when he came in to deliver tea, and he would laugh at Tim’s jokes. He would joke along with them about Elias and Peter, about how close Georgie and Melanie seemed, about how Daisy and Basira acted like an old married couple. 

He often caught his face softening as he watched his assistants from afar in his office, and he couldn’t help but feel like these people were his  _ family _ .

Jon remembered vividly the day they foiled Elias’ schemes, the grin on Tim’s face and the spark in Martin’s eyes as the Institute went up in flames. He remembered the way Martin had swept them up, the way Tim and Martin in turn had kissed him, warm and desperate. He remembered the way he had kissed the both of them back, allowing himself  _ finally _ to be free of his work, to be free of his limitations, and just  _ love. _

It was still a learning process, but Jon was getting there. He began to gain a comfortable familiarity with waking up between the two men, and he began to show his affection more and more. He began to press careful kisses into Tim’s hair while they watched documentaries, he began to initiate hugs with Martin while he was making tea, and he began to openly accept affection when it was aimed at him instead of brushing it away with a scowl.

You couldn’t fix people, yes. But you could help them out of their shells. You could help them finally -  _ finally _ \- allow themselves to be loved, allow themselves to love others without fear of rejection.

Tim taught Jon that love could be fast, love could leave you breathless, and love could make you laugh. Tim showed Jon all the ways that he could smile, all the ways that his day could be brightened in the tiniest most important ways. Tim taught Jon how to tell jokes, loud and proud, and to greet each day with a grin. Tim taught Jon that love could be in everything, that there was love in teasing and love in competition, that love could be anything Jon wanted it to be.

_ Love is freeing, _ Tim had said.  _ Love is feeling like you can be yourself and letting yourself be important, love is full of ugly moments and beautiful moments and everything in between. Love is new and dizzying and it ties us all together, it gives us all room to grow and change and become our own people. Love is the most trusting thing in the world, Jon! Love is crazy and strange and always changing, and love changes you in return. _

Martin taught Jon that love could be gentle. He taught Jon that love could be sweet, love could be tender, love could be so very domestic. Martin showed Jon how to knit, showed Jon how to spend time with people while not doing anything at all, showed Jon how to take a break for  _ himself _ every once in a while. Martin taught Jon how love could be patient, and that love doesn’t have to be anything Jon doesn’t want it to be. He helped Jon through therapy and scar cream, helped Jon through the nightmares and the flashbacks.

_ Love is full of boundaries _ , Martin had said.  _ Love is full of respect and patience and care and everything in between, love is full of laughter and memory and feelings. Love is about being there when you need each other most, and climbing every mountain together. Love is about knowing each other better than you know yourself, knowing and loving each little imperfection. Love is the most real thing in the world, Jon, and don’t you forget that we love you. We love you so, so much. _

Like some sort of intricate and beautiful puzzle box Jon began to open up, to twist apart and rejoin in new and miraculous ways. Jon began to smile, began to love, began to allow himself to be loved. For the first time in his life Jon began to enjoy himself, to take care of his body, and to love - openly and fully.

And Jon greeted love like an old friend.

* * *

Tim was  _ sure _ that he was a master of love.

From primary all the way to uni he had women and men alike swooning at his feet, and he got used to being able to whisk people away with a single grin. Tim learned firstly that love was shallow and something he could use to get his way, learned this as he watched his parents dance around each other every night with more and more excuses as to why they would leave. That’s just what love was, he thought - a strategy to get what you wanted.

Danny had been different. Danny had loved so openly, so freely. Danny had loved like a summer storm and he had loved everyone, and Danny had taught Tim that love could be for him, too. Love didn’t have to be transactional, Danny had said, love was supposed to make  _ you  _ happy, too _. _ And Tim  _ was _ happy, happier than he had ever been.

But then Danny died, and Tim closed himself off. He put up a wall around his heart, full of flirting and joking and grins, to keep himself safe, to keep himself distant. The truth was, Tim didn’t trust himself to love anymore. Didn’t want to lose anyone again, didn’t want to hurt anyone else.

And then Tim had met Sasha, and he had let that wall down - just a little - to let someone else inside. Sasha was kind and bright, she went along with his jokes with a ferocity that reminded him, painfully, of his brother, and she was oh-so-very smart. She had a fierceness about her that rivalled even Tim’s attitude, and he felt like he was unstoppable with her at his side.

The two of them were transferred down to the archives under a new boss - an old friend that Tim barely knew but had always been distant. They worked together there, doing what Sasha loved and what she had deserved to get a promotion doing. Together they researched statements and fell in love, and Tim finally,  _ finally _ felt like he could open up again.

The Prentiss incident tied them all together through shared pain, drawing Tim closer towards Martin and begrudgingly towards Jon. He learned that Martin recorded poetry on the tape recorders, he learned that Jon was afraid of spiders, and he learned that the archives weren’t safe at all. 

He learned that he was willing to risk his life to save the archival assistants and that, if faced with the choice, would do it again. The world out there was dangerous, strange, and full of fear, but at least he had Sasha and, distantly, Jon and Martin. His ragtag crew that were slowly worming - pun intended - into his heart.

And then, of course, Sasha left him too.

He learned, to his horror, that the woman he had been falling in love with, opening up to, wasn’t the woman he remembered. He learned that he was opening his heart up to a monster, the same kind that killed Danny, the same kind that apparently  _ killed Sasha. _

The walls came down again, reinforced steel and unbudging. Tim became reckless, loose with his life like he had never been before. Sasha had been his impulse control and, with her gone, he lashed out at everyone, tearing them apart with viciousness that he didn’t know he had.  _ He had to make them feel the same pain, _ he thought, he had to show them how it felt to truly lose that spark of warmth in your chest.

When Tim learned about the Unknowing, he knew at once that he had to be involved. Whether to stop it and avenge Danny or to kill himself once and for all he really didn’t care, he just yearned to feel that heat just  _ one more time.  _ He yearned to do something to protect the last two people that he could trust, that he could let in.

He couldn’t get the images out of his head, years later, no matter how hard he tried. The flames flashed through his mind every time he closed his eyes, silhouetting the horrid twisting frame of that  _ thing, _ that thing that had killed Danny and had killed Sasha and that he was  _ not going to let kill Jon _ .

He had fully intended to die there, surrounded by flames and mannequins. It would’ve been just, he thought, to have died by the same hands that did in his brother. But Jon had other plans, the world had other plans, and Tim couldn’t get out of his head the creases between Martin’s eyebrows as he watched the two of them get wheeled up into the ambulance. 

He couldn’t ever forget how tiny Jon had looked then, surrounded by flames with tears streaming down his face. All of his anger and frustration fell away in that moment and the walls came crashing down around him, his heart blown open in an intricate firework of emotions that exploded with the flames surrounding them. The last thing he saw before his eyes flickered open again in the hospital was Jon’s shaky smile as the circus fell apart around them, and he let himself fall in love.

He recalled the weeks after fondly. Jon had been in a coma, which wasn’t great, but Martin had come in to check on them every day until their release. Martin, with his face creased in worry and his big fluffy sweaters, Martin somehow bringing tea up into the hospital that was too hot for Tim to stomach and languished cold at Jon’s bedside.

Tim opened up his heart once more to allow this big, clumsy man, this man who was so full of love that Tim couldn’t even imagine him ever getting hurt or hurting him in return. Tim remembered looking from Jon’s tiny, crumpled form to Martin’s broad, smiling face, and he had never wanted to be reckless ever again. He wanted to stay hopefully, beautifully alive, if just to keep seeing the smiles on both of the men’s faces.

He remembered vividly the day Jon had woken up. Him and Martin had been playing cards in Tim’s hospital bed, the bed comically dwarfed by Martin’s large frame. Tim remembered glancing past Martin to check the time and seeing movement, remembered how he had sprung up and the way all of his cards had scattered across the floor.

Those first few moments of Jon’s eyes flickering open filled Tim’s heart with conflicting emotions; the desire to close down at the sight of those green, inhuman eyes, as well as a desperate urge to let his walls drop once and for all. He remembered the sound Martin had made, something between a laugh and a squeal, and he remembered laughing along at the confusion on Jon’s face.

He remembered meeting Martin in the waiting room the day after - the day they were released - and being swept up into a massive hug, and, if he thought hard about it, he could still feel the warmth of Martin’s arms around his. He remembered the look on Jon’s face, that horrible  _ beautiful _ and hopeful smile, and he remembered falling in love again and again with every little crease in his face.

After that he had quieted down, spent more time smiling and less time yelling, let his anger fizzle out. He let himself enjoy life again, and he let himself love. He let himself love the little startled smiles on Jon’s face when he made an off color joke, the crow’s feet that branched from Martin’s eyes as he laughed. He mapped Jon’s scars and Martin’s freckles again and again in his mind, letting himself  _ finally _ slow down and enjoy the little things.

The day they burnt down the Institute was one of the best days in his life. He recalled fondly the satisfied, smug little grin on Jon’s face and the way the fire flickered in Martin’s eyes as they watched Elias’ plan fall to the ground, burnt away like the circus all those months ago. He remembered how, caught up in the moment, Martin had swept the both of them up in his arms, and he remembered the tender kisses they had shared in the dying light of the fire. He remembered the way it felt when his last wall fell, open and free and  _ himself _ again.

The three of them moved in together, and Tim had to relearn how to love. He discovered that love wasn’t something transactional, that love wasn’t something lightning fast and unreachable. He learned to love slowly, comfortably, completely. He learned to respect Jon’s boundaries and have his respected in turn, and he learned to open up when Martin asked what was wrong. He talked to the others about his brother, about Sasha, and in turn they told him their own stories, of grandmothers and neglectful mothers and self-hate. He learned how to care, how to hold a relationship without  _ needing _ something from it. He learned to move on, but to not forget where he had come from.

He began to grow used to waking up comfortable and without the flames flickering behind his eyelids, and grew used to the way Martin would kiss his scars, the way Jon would run his fingers through Tim’s hair. He grew used to love being two-way, three-way, not just one-sided. Tim let himself trust again, and he let himself live.

Jon taught Tim that love could be something new, something different, something that surprised you at every turn. Jon showed Tim all the ways he could grow, learn new things about others, and learn new things about himself. Jon taught Tim how to care for the details, how to appreciate beauty for what it was and how to see both sides of a story. Jon taught Tim that love was unpredictable, that love would always find new ways to make you smile, and that love was something you deserved, not something you could earn.

_ Love is… sporadic,  _ Jon had said.  _ Love is a living thing that still catches me off guard, a shifting organism that grows and develops just like us. Love is remembering the important things, like how Martin takes his tea or like how you remember all the documentaries I listen to when I’m sad. Love is something that sneaks up on you, warm and grounding, and is something that keeps you present. Love keeps us alive, Tim, all of us. Love saved my life, and I know it saved yours, too. _

Martin had taught Tim that love didn’t have to be lustful, that love could be domestic and gentle. He showed Tim that love was something beautiful to be shared with others, something that shouldn’t be coveted. Martin taught Tim how to move slowly, to evolve, and to learn what made  _ himself _ happy. Martin taught Tim that love wasn’t just something that you used as a tool, that love was something that bound people together and made them grow. Martin showed Tim how to take care of himself, how to take his medication and to talk to a therapist, how to  _ recover. _

_ Love doesn’t have to be all at once, _ Martin had said.  _ Love is about loving yourself and  _ then _ others, love is about taking your time to make things right. Love is about accepting what has to happen and what you can fix, and love is accepting the things you can’t change. Love is letting others help you get better, letting people into that steel heart of yours. Love means we’re here for you, Tim, that nobody has to leave you ever again. _

Like a butterfly unfurling from its chrysalis Tim began to grow, to see the beauty in himself. Tim began to relax, greet every day with uncertainty, and fly free from the iron walls that had closed him in. For the first time in his life Tim let himself be taken care of and he let himself love again, he let himself trust - openly and fully.

And Tim relearned how to love.

* * *

Martin had always assumed that love wasn’t for him.

Love was something you eventually earned, he had thought, when you were a good enough person to deserve it. His mother didn’t love him and that made sense, didn’t it? Because he clearly wasn’t doing a good enough job taking care of her. He had always hoped, maybe, some day, he would do  _ just _ the right thing and she’d gift him with her love.

When his mum went off to have someone else take care of her, his mind’s natural progression told him that he wasn’t good enough for her, so he didn’t deserve love from anyone. Martin decided this was fine by him, love was too much of a luxury for someone like him anyway, and he moved on.

He had always been lonely, growing up. He was friendly yet distant with his peers - the kind of friend who you’d talk to, but probably wouldn't invite to your birthday. At home he expected nothing and received just so, but  _ he _ loved his  _ mum _ , right? That’s what that feeling was? The deep twisting fear that she would leave, that he would be on his own - wasn’t that love?

When Martin applied to work at the Magnus Institute, he was desperate. He had nowhere else to turn and someone needed to pay his mum’s hospital bills, so off he went. He lied on his application because he knew he wouldn't get the job otherwise and braced himself to be let down.

But he got in, and Martin shifted into a new phase of his life with cheerful apathy.

He took to the job easy enough, being an assistant was pretty close to taking care of his mother in the end. He would deliver tea, get a glare from his boss, and continue on with his job. He even let himself enjoy himself, guiltily, allowing himself the luxury of joking with his coworkers and smiling at their laughter.

Tim and Sasha were kind, the type of kind that made someone fall in love, and the type of kind that Martin was sure he didn’t deserve. But he refused to disappoint them so he smiled on, brought them tea, and found himself as part of a family.

Eventually, he realized that, just maybe, his mum was different. He had met Sasha’s mum who had made him biscuits and complimented his jumper, and he had met Tim’s mum, who had smiled softly and said nothing else. This small thing, even, was new to Martin - his mother had never smiled at him, never  _ baked _ him anything, never made him feel good about himself…

He thought that’s just what mothers did but… was his mum bad?

_ Surely _ not, he decided, he must’ve just been a bad son. He didn’t earn biscuits and smiles and compliments, and Tim and Sasha had. That was just the way love worked. You had to earn it, just like you had to earn everything else.

And then he had been trapped in his flat for a month, shaking in his bedroom as he tried to block out the sounds of knocking from outside.  _ He deserved this, _ he kept telling himself, over and over.  _ This was his punishment for getting too close to his coworkers, for taking love that didn’t belong to him. _

He had been knocked out of his spiral by Jon’s frantic voice outside his door, by Jon’s warm hands on his arms, and something strange sparked in his chest. It was small and warm and throbbing, unfamiliar but comfortable all the same. It curled around his heart as Jon pulled him up and out of his flat, and sunk deep into his stomach when Tim burst into the archives, extinguisher in tow.

At some point between being besieged by Jane Prentiss and preparing for the Unknowing, Martin realized that he was in love. At first he had felt guilty - he didn’t deserve to love either of them, they were so much more talented than him and he couldn’t do  _ anything  _ right, not even fight off some worms.

But then, as Jon began to curl in on himself and as Tim became reckless and angry, Martin realized he wanted to protect them. More than anything he wanted to tell Jon that he was still human, still lovely. He wanted to tell Tim that his life mattered so much, that the archives needed him to keep them all together. He watched from a distance as the two men he loved most fell apart, and he prayed to whatever powers were at bay that they would make it out alive.

He had waited in the archives, helpless in a way that was horribly familiar, as the men he loved risked their lives fighting some monster he didn’t understand. He had burned the statements, one by one, grateful at least that they had trusted him to distract Elias, that they had given him an important job as part of their plan.

Martin had rushed over as soon as the hospital called, barely pausing to pull a cardigan over his jumper. It still haunted his nightmares, Jon’s gaunt, lifeless face and Tim’s horribly scorched skin. He had breathed out a sigh of relief that seemed anticlimactic for all the gratitude that had raced through his veins when the doctor told them they’d be okay, and he had settled down in the waiting room to, well, wait.

He was on his feet and in the hospital room as soon as Tim was up, this new warm feeling in his chest making him bold. Tim had smiled so widely as Martin had walked in that he fell all over again, falling for the moles speckled across his tanned skin, falling for his spiky brown hair that was now a mess around his ears, falling for his warm brown eyes. All of Tim’s visible skin was streaked in places with aggressive burn scarring but that didn’t matter to Martin, and in an instant he had Tim in his arms.

Tim had winced but hugged him back, snuggling his still burn-warm face into the crook of Martin’s neck. He had pressed a kiss into the top of Tim’s head, caught up in the moment, and Tim had smiled his sly, shit-eating smile and kissed Martin on the cheek, lips chapped and warm. They stayed like that, in each other's arms, until the nurse asked Martin to leave.

Things became easier, after that.

Martin came in day after day with tea and a deck of cards, and he slowly began to embrace that warm feeling in his chest. He stopped thinking about being guilty and focused more on Tim and Jon’s recovery. He still remembered the day Jon woke up, the way Tim had leapt up and scattered cards everywhere on the way to the other bed. Martin remembered the fond look that had settled onto Jon’s face after his eyes had flickered open, smoothing out the ridges between his eyebrows and making him look so much younger.

The Unknowing had changed all three of them, Martin realized. It had quieted Tim down, boiled off all of that anger. Tim was calmer, slower, these days, but he took care of himself and that's all that Martin wanted. Jon, on the other hand, grew bolder, laughing along with their jokes and shooting them smiles from his desk. In turn, Martin grew bolder as well, helping them apply burn cream and, ever so often, kissing the crowns of their heads, their cheeks, their jaws, as he delivered his tea.

Tim would kiss back, always fiery and always with a grin. He would take the tea carefully with burnt hands and press a kiss into Martin’s palm, never failing to make Martin go red as a beet. Jon was shier, more cautious, but would occasionally lean into Martin’s chest and just stay there for a while, humming quietly to a tune only he could hear.

The three of them had burnt down the Institute together in a plan sparked by Martin’s growing bravery and penchant for arson, and he remembered fondly the grin on Tim’s face and the flames in Jon’s eyes as Elias’ work fell to the ground. He had swept them up then, the three of them sharing kisses as usual but tinged with desperation, with freedom, with relief from it all being over.

They moved in together, and Martin slowly began to learn that love wasn’t a reward. Love wasn’t something you had to fight to earn, no, love was something you had to make for yourself. Martin learned to love the little things in life, the tiny smiles on Jon’s face over morning tea, the way Tim’s hair stuck straight up in the morning. He learned Jon’s favorite documentaries and Tim’s favorite icecream, learned to keep track of their medications and when their appointments were.

It was similar work to caring for his mother, but it was as far different as it could have ever been. With his mother, it was empty - he never got anything in return, and he never truly put care into his actions. With Jon and Tim it was different. He put every ounce of love he had into each little task, and in return Jon talked with him about his mother, about his childhood, about their shared trauma. In return Tim made him laugh when he was sad, made him feel the love he missed out on when he was younger.

Martin learned to experience love without feeling guilty, without feeling ashamed. He learned that he  _ deserved _ to be loved, just as anyone deserved it. Because love was something that everyone should have, and he learned to share it with everyone he crossed paths with. He brewed love into every mug of tea, knit love into every jumper, and baked love into every biscuit.

Tim taught Martin that love was easy, that love came fast and hard and when you least expected it. Tim taught Martin how to ride that wave, how to go where the flow took him. Tim showed Martin all the ways love could brighten his life, all the ways it hadn’t previously but would now. Tim showed Martin kindness and care, Tim showed Martin love through laughter and love through teasing and love through being stupid together.

_ Love can get anything done, really, _ Tim had said.  _ Love is a force to be reckoned with, when it wants to be. Love can make you do the craziest little things - from jumping into a burning wax museum to torching your old workplace - love can drive you to do anything. Love is fiery and love is unpredictable and love belongs to everyone. Love belongs to you, Martin, whether you want it or not. _

Jon taught Martin that love didn’t make any sense, that love defied all logic. He taught Martin that love could drive you insane sometimes, with the infinance of it all, the sheer amount of love that people could contain. Jon showed Martin slow love, careful love, in the gentle way he got used to Martin’s hugs, in the way he slowly opened up to others. Jon showed Martin fierce love in the way he stood up to anyone who made fun of them, and he showed Martin how important love could be through every step along his recovery process.

_ Love is like a riddle, _ Jon had said.  _ I would be lying if it made any sense to me, but, once you know the answer, it just seems right. Love fills that little hole in your chest that you’ve had since you were born, and love makes you feel whole again. Love brought me into your flat that day armed with a corkscrew and love brought Tim into the archives with that fire extinguisher, because love is a bit like fate. Love brought me to you two, Martin, and that’s all that really matters. _

Like a sunrise Martin let himself shine, let himself express everything his mother forced down all those years ago. He let himself be loved, let himself others, without being embarrassed. He learned to love himself, learned to love his body for all it did to him, and learned to shake away the clouds that would cover his light.

Martin discovered love, and he refused to let it go.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! this fic means a whole lot to me, actually, because I am currently hopelessly in love (Vince if you're reading this YEAH YOU) and that influenced this like,,, a LOT? I don't really have all that much experience with love except for the two wonderful months I have spent with my lovely boyfriend so I really hope this came out alright considering,,
> 
> If you liked this, please consider checking out my other tma fics! I've got two ongoing ones rn and a few finished oneshots :D
> 
> catch me on instagram at @niick.draws, love you all!! have a great day!


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